<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Dull Gray and the Effortless by Anonymous</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26216437">Dull Gray and the Effortless</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/'>Anonymous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2005-02-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2005-02-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 09:26:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,489</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26216437</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sirius Black/Remus Lupin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Anonymous</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Dull Gray and the Effortless</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Long-fallen leaves swirled across the gray cement, all curled up and crisp sounding as the wind scraped them across the sidewalk. The mid-October air was brisk and managed to seep into his very bones. He adjusted his scarf a little and pulled his hands out of his pockets, blowing on them in a forlorn attempt to keep warm. The sky was overcast and looks like it might rain, but then, this is England and it always looks like rain.</p>
<p>He had been to the Registry again because they’re always wanting something more. And if he didn’t get enough of ‘where were you at such-an-hour’, or ‘have you been approached by such-a-person?’ from them of course he’d always eventually get the same inquiry, only thinly veiled and with fake tones of friendly concern at the Order. Sometimes at home too, which was the worst.</p>
<p>Everyone is high-strung these days, friends don’t trust each other, and far too often, neither do lovers. It was hardly safe for him to be walking along the empty street like this, but right now, he was too apathetic to worry about all that. The cold wind was almost welcome, numbing his body just like his emotions were numbed. Everything around him, all the colours of the dead leaves, the red coat of the child playing in the park, the normal taste of autumn air that held spice and brought a feeling of reminiscence seemed to be dulled by the gray of the sidewalk, the blandness of the houses, the acrid taste of smog, smog and fear and the feeling of distrust.</p>
<p>Sometimes he couldn’t help but wonder if distrust had already destroyed everything. Sure there hadn’t been any huge fall outs, no shouting, nothing like that, just those little unsure glances, that final hesitancy, those questions made out to seem like concern. It’s not that he doesn’t trust him, but every week someone else dies and there’s a spy and then there’s Imperio, and there’s everything. A particularly cold gust of wind blasts by, almost as if it were punishing him for thinking such things, for suspicions he knows are unfounded. He needs them to be unfounded.</p>
<p>He shrinks a little more into his coat, trying to keep in the heat, the one thing he has to look forward to about going home. He can’t help but bitterly reflect over the fact that it used to be Sirius was the thing he looked forward to going home to. Maybe he still is, but everything was so foggy and tainted these days, things change. He wonders maybe if he still loves him, because you aren’t supposed to do things like this, to prolong seeing the person you love by keeping some sort of guarded distance. But then, people have told him a lot of things about love that aren’t true, he knows they aren’t. Maybe just for those who have always had it easy. Once Lily came around she and James couldn’t be happier, they had a beautiful son, everything seems okay except for the fears that plague everyone now, muggles and wizards alike.</p>
<p>It’s never been that way for him. He always has to hide that he has Sirius, constantly being set up on dates by all the people he knows because they all think he’s ‘such a lovely boy who needs to settle down.’ He’s not allowed to hold Sirius’ hand when they walk down the street together and can only hold it under the table at Order meetings, where no one can see. They have to put so much effort into making sure that no one but James, Lily, and Peter ever finds out, or gets suspicious. He’s not allowed to act towards Sirius in public like James is allowed to Lily or Peter would be to whoever, and it bothers him. He wants to spend every minute stroking Sirius’ graceful hands, running idle fingers through his hair, letting everyone know that he is Sirius’ and nothing will change that. But he’s not allowed. He’s only allowed to do those sorts of things in the privacy of their flat, or when it’s just the Marauders and Lily (but even then they’re only allowed to hands, as it sometimes makes the others uncomfortable. James especially—James who is Sirius’ best friend and free to do whatever the hell he wants with Lily).</p>
<p>He’s never had it so well off as some people have—maybe he’s had it better than some too though. At least Sirius loves him back. Sirius promises so many times in his ear that he loves him and will always be there. Be there to remind him he is human when he gets fired from another job, once again a victim of prejudice; be there to remind him why his second curse is really a blessing, because he has Sirius; be there to make it not matter that they can’t touch in public, because that they can in that moment and that is all that matters.</p>
<p>Still, when he hears all those people go on about how love is those moments where you’re riding a gondola down the canals in Venice, or that it’s all those cheesy, low-key moments walking through a park (which is often stated to counter the gondola argument), he can’t help thinking they’re wrong and that quite possibly they only think that because they’ve got it easy. But love isn’t a photograph; it’s not a favourite memory or a dozen favourite memories. Love isn’t a thing that you can put pictures and words to because it not a thing, it has no what, love is a feeling. If he thought about his past, almost everything he remembers involves Sirius. It’s not because of the memories he loves him, it’s because he loves him that makes those his memories. Sirius is the most important thing to him and therefore is featured almost entirely in the important bits of his life he recalls. Love isn’t a snapshot, it’s everything and he loves Sirius so Sirius is everything. Everything he remembers, everything he holds onto.</p>
<p>It’s really ironic, he thinks, that people often go on about those moments when they knew they were in love or were loved back, when it’s only just a very happy memory, because love hasn’t a time or place, it’s a million moments of just having them and knowing that this feeling has always been there. Not a once in a while you’ll notice it sort of thing—because then, what would be the point? It’s not the ups and downs (god knows they’ve had a lot of downs), it’s all that is. Love is what exists.</p>
<p>And he loves Sirius, he knows that. And he could supposedly distrust him and still love him, but he really can’t. Call it blinded by emotions or whatever you will but it’s true. If he thinks past the Order’s fears and Peter’s odd comments, if he really thinks about it, he doesn’t think Sirius is the spy. He couldn’t be, if only because Remus J. Lupin loves him so much his faults don’t matter. They aren’t faults really, just endearments.</p>
<p>And so, he realizes he has been incredibly stupid all this time, that despite whatever he might have been thinking an hour ago, he really does want to go home. And he is about to find a place to Apparate, before he notices that he has arrived at their flat. He fumbles somewhat with the lock before opening the door to find Sirius sitting at their little table, looking worried. Sirius’ head snaps up, so much like his counterpart Padfoot, and for a moment they just look. Then Sirius smiles his favourite smile. It’s the one that’s never forced and not the brilliant smile that charms everyone within sight. It’s the, ‘I want to take care of you, Remus Lupin,’ the one used after full moons when Remus is recovering, the one used when Remus says something particularly ‘smart-like’ and Sirius decides he needs to rescue Remus from those dreadful books. Right now it’s being used because he is a werewolf-icicle and Sirius wants to take care of that.</p>
<p>Sirius walks over and hugs him in that way that isn’t awkward, or too much, or too stiff, just they way that only they hug. And he just rubs his head against Sirius’ neck, Sirius not even flinching as his cold nose brushes warm skin. “What were you doing? You’re absolutely frozen,” Sirius says after a moment.</p>
<p>“I walked back,” Remus whispered burrowing further, being warmed by Sirius’ embrace.</p>
<p>“Daft git,” Sirius mutters and Remus can feel him shake his head a little.</p>
<p>“I know, very daft.”</p>
<p>“As long as you know it, love. As long as you’re here.”</p>
<p>And he smiles, and can’t help but think how crazy he was to have lost an hour of his life walking home, when he could have had more of this.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>